Before I Let You Go(11)
I finally, reluctantly dragged myself up from the grass beneath the tree and went to ask her what she was doing. She told me to stand on the lawn, and then she waddled over to my side with the flowers still in the skirt of her dress, and she told me to spin. I resisted at first, but she grew insistent and so I awkwardly twirled, but I felt stupid and angry. Soon Lexie dropped the flowers onto the ground and she began to gently toss them over me as I spun. The wind picked up, and my clumsy twirl gradually became more free. I twirled and the flowers rained down around me onto the lawn and the sun came out from behind the clouds, and for just a second, life was something close to beautiful again.
“Smile, Annie!” Lexie shouted, and at first I couldn’t, but as I danced and twirled the corners of my mouth lifted just a little and then I did smile and Lexie smiled, too. Soon we were throwing the petals at each other and then we were dancing and laughing as if the world hadn’t really ended three days earlier.
Lexie caught my wrist in her hand to stop me, and she thumped her other hand hard against my chest and she said quite forcibly, “Do you feel that? That lightness inside? That’s Dad. He’s with us still, I promise you. He would never leave us, not ever, Annie.”
They really were the worst days, Luke. But even then, my brave big sister made sure there was a silver lining.
5
LEXIE
I wake the next morning to the familiar sounds of hospital foot traffic on the other side of the door. Sam and I are in the residents’ bunk room, and sometime while we were asleep he pulled me right onto his chest. I offered to sleep on the top bunk, but it didn’t take much convincing for me to join him. Although it was cramped, I needed the comfort of his body against mine. And he was right about my state of mind—even on this taste of sleep, I feel much more rational. I slide from the bed and Sam stirs.
“What time is it?” He sounds like he’s in rougher shape than I feel. I glance at my phone and am relieved to find no missed calls.
“Ten.”
It was just after five by the time we got back to the bunk room, then I was on my phone for a while—trying to figure out how to word the email I had to send to work. I knew Oliver would check his emails the moment he was out of bed, and I knew he could call in a replacement for the next few days. Taking off work was particularly inconvenient as a GP, but necessary from time to time, so of course the clinic had procedures in place.
The cause of my hesitation was a vigorous internal debate about whether I needed to reveal that Annie was back on the scene. I just wasn’t sure how he’d react, given how close she came to costing me my job last time. So for a good ten minutes I typed and then deleted text, until Sam impatiently took the phone and drafted the email for me.
Oliver, I’m so sorry—I’ve had a family emergency. I won’t be at work for the rest of the week. I’ll call you once I know more. Lexie
As soon as I nodded, Sam hit the send button. That was at 5:15 a.m.
“He doesn’t need to know any details yet,” Sam had murmured, as he pulled me down onto the pillow. “We can deal with it later.”
“Things must be going well if the staff on the ward haven’t called,” Sam surmises now, and I have no doubt about that. He made sure his colleagues in Maternity knew to contact us for any change in Annie’s condition. This hospital is his domain, and I can tell he’s highly regarded. Sam is a surgeon, a man who works with his hands—but at heart, he is a devoted people person. He has chosen this career for no other reason than that he cares very deeply about his patients.
I smooth my hair into a ponytail and wait for Sam to pull his jeans on before I open the door. We walk hand in hand back to Maternity, and Sam politely responds to countless greetings as we make our way through the halls. At the ward, he goes to speak with the nursing staff and to see if Eliza Rogers can spare him a minute or two, as I head to Annie’s room.
She’s resting against the pillows watching television, a tray of untouched food in front of her. The color in her face is better, but she still looks drained.
“How are you feeling?”
“Tired, but the headache is gone.” Annie hits the remote to turn the television off and struggles to pull herself into a sitting position. I help her, adjusting the bed and then offering my arm for her to drag herself upright.
“Have you seen the obstetrician?”
“Yes, her name’s Eliza. She came in a while ago and said things are looking better than when I came in.”
I’m going to need much more detail than that—but I know Sam will be able to give me a better picture of Annie’s situation after he talks with the staff. My mind races forward to the next challenge, and I say to Annie, “We need to call Mom.”
Even though my mother and I are hardly close-knit, I’m sure that she’d want to know about this situation. Mom mentioned to me in our last call a few weeks ago that Annie has been calling her, too, and I assume they’ve rebuilt something of a closer relationship while Annie and I have been apart. So I’m surprised when my sister shakes her head.
“Not yet. Please, Lexie. Give me a few days, okay? It’s not like she’s going to be angry that we didn’t call her straight away. She probably won’t even care.”
“Don’t say that, Annie.” It feels strange to defend Mom, but in this case, I’m sure that Annie is wrong. “She does care.”